Fatal Enquiry by Will Thomas Read Free Book Online Page B

and the ricin in his lungs becomes airborne again. It’s nasty stuff.”
    “This all sounds vaguely foreign,” Poole stated. “I’ve never heard of ricin before, and of course, O’Muircheartaigh is an Irish criminal. Then there’s the sword. Do you suppose it could be a rival Irish faction, working out of France, perhaps?”
    Poole, an Englishman to the core, is always suspicious of anything or anyone outside his own culture. The French are not to be trusted, the Germans covet our navy, and the Russians want to wrest India from our grasp. As a Scot and a Welshman, the Guv and I have wondered about his opinions closer to home, but he is a good friend, and has saved our hides on more than one occasion.
    “I’d have called O’Muircheartaigh the most dangerous man in London,” Barker stated, “but whoever made the attempt on his life this morning would more closely earn that title.”
    The thought occurred to me that whoever the messenger was, he had done me a favor. The Irishman had sworn he’d kill me one day. In our second case, I had been responsible for causing an explosion which killed a woman who had been his paramour. That she was going to use the bomb she carried to harm a member of the royal family he found irrelevant.
    My employer looked at Poole. “You’ve given me very little information to work with.”
    “It’s all we have at the moment,” Poole said, standing. “I’ve got to get back. The Yard is hopping today. We’ll talk later.”
    When he was gone, I turned to my employer.
    “Do you think there’s a connection between Nightwine’s arrival and this attack upon O’Muircheartaigh?”
    “I am convinced of it. Nightwine sold his criminal interests to the Irishman before he left for Asia. Seamus would be furious to hear he was coming back.”
    “Not even if Nightwine declared himself reformed?”
    “If you believe that, lad, you are more naïve than I think you are.”
    “So, someone working for Nightwine attacked O’Muircheartaigh, attempting to bring him down first?”
    “I would, were I in his situation,” Barker said. “Wouldn’t you?”
    “I suppose I would.”
    Standing, he filled his pipe and crossed to the window, where he looked out onto the courtyard. “Mark my words, Thomas. O’Muirchartaigh already knew of Nightwine’s arrival and was planning a move of his own when events overtook him.”
    “Should we go into the City then?” I asked.
    “Even if we tried to enter his offices, we would be stopped by the police, and I do not believe Seamus would be able to speak if we went to St. Bart’s. We should stay here until we have more information.”
    I was about to venture a remark, no doubt something decisive and necessary to the investigation, when I was interrupted by the bell of the telephone set on the Guv’s desk.
    I got up from my chair and lifted the receiver to my ear.
    “Barker Agency,” I said.
    There was a short crackle on the other end, and then the operator spoke in a monotone voice.
    “Good morning. I have an incoming call for Mr. Waterstone,” he said.
    “I’m sorry. You must have reached this number by mistake. There’s no one here by that name.”
    “Thank you,” the operator said, and rung off promptly.
    “Who was it?” Barker asked.
    “Wrong number,” I stated. “He wanted someone named Waterstone.”
    There was a sharp tink as Barker’s pipe hit the floor and the amber stem broke.
    Before I knew it, his hands dug into my lapels and jerked me around the desk, as he dragged me toward the narrow hallway behind our chambers.
    Barker stopped at a door on the right and opened it. It was a lumber room with a ladder affixed to the wall at the far end, leading to the basement. He pointed and I climbed down quickly, with him close behind.
    Reaching the empty basement, he led me across to a door in the wall and plunged inside. It was a tunnel, narrow and unlit. I hadn’t gone ten feet before my shoulders came in contact with something cold and